The Human Connection

To continue last night's post...there's this guy. When I first met him, he was in a relationship and kind of reclusive. However, once that relationship ended, he started getting to know people better, myself included. Then, this thing kind of happened where we ended up being the last people in the dorm lounge and started talking about everything that was shit in our lives - a heart-to-heart, really. That's when I realized what a wonderful person he really is, and when he realized that just because I talk doesn't mean I talk about people. I think that's when I gained his trust, and things changed yet again.

And then this week, he said something so sweet, whether he realized it or not; he was just completing a thought, and ended with "...you know why? Because you're like a sister to me." And that's when I realized how I felt about him. I felt like I had known him my entire life, that I could trust him with anything, that no matter what, I could come to him and he would be there. As much as I love my roommate, she isn't good at handling emotional situations, so I would never put her in that kind of situation, and the friends that I would talk to live hours away. That doesn't mean I can't talk to them, but I'm also a very physical person, and the ability to talk to someone in the same room somehow makes it better. But despite all this, and the fact that I can usually say anything, part of me is afraid to tell him. It's kind of like being afraid to tell someone you love them because it may not be reciprocated, only not...I don't know if he'll ever read this, but I appreciate him more than I think he knows, and knowing I have him to fall back on if I need a shoulder or an ear or anything is the most wonderful and the warmest feeling ever. Do you have any idea how comforting it is to feel that way about someone in a platonic relationship? If you don't, you're missing out on something indescribably normal, odd as that sounds, and if you do, well, enjoy it.

Post-midnight ramblings

A blog...funny, but even though I've been writing for all my - well, I wouldn't say adult life, but does mature life work well enough? - mature life, I never got into the blogging "scene". I've found words are cathartic, and when there's no one to listen, then writing gets everything out so I can at least quiet the storm of thoughts in my head and get on with my life. Because I write to get things out, I love the tactility of pen and paper. Somehow, I feel like I'm physically pouring my frustration or my happiness or whatever overwhelming feeling I have onto the paper, something I don't get from typing (as much as I love my MacBook).

This can be almost single-handedly blamed on one of my friends, who mentioned that he liked the validation of having a blog; the possibility that someone might find your thoughts and read them is oddly daunting and comforting at the same time. So here goes...

College. So much has changed for me since I started, changes that (as cliché as it sounds) I never would have thought possible. You should know that I was homeschooled my entire life, and while I definitely break from the "traditional" image of a reserved, socially inept mousey thing, I never really felt like I was a part of something more than myself, my education, my life, and my future before this. It might be that most other homeschoolers were so WASP I couldn't relate, or that they tried to make sense of me and failed, but I always felt like a third wheel, even in a group of 10 or 12. I always initiated things, and no one really seemed to care about me. When I was taking college courses in high school, I did find people I related to more, but there was still the age gap issue, and I never really felt like anyone's equal. (sidenote: this entire post is sounding way too emo for my liking, because I usually am a ray of sunshine - maybe it's the weather. You can put the tissues away though, things cheer up soon.)

Then, I got to my small-town liberal arts college, not quite sure what to expect. Things got off to a good start though; my roommate turned out to be my introverted self - we have a lot in common, and I love her to death - which was interesting, I liked most of my classes, and I noticed that our class seemed to have some interesting people in it. Still, it was too early to actually know anyone. Eventually, a group started to form that I was somewhat a part of, but since most of the people in that group were from the same dorm (which wasn't mine), I still felt somewhat third-wheel-ish randomly coming into their lounge. But then, the strangest thing happened; people started asking for my number instead of me asking for theirs. I started getting called up when things were happening. People would randomly say hi to me without me going right up to them. And yet, something was still not quite right. Winter break came and passed, and I wondered what this semester would bring.

It was wonderful. I came back the first day, and I realized how much I had missed these people, who had been strangers only months ago. Then, the epic adventures began. I started taking up random offers by people. For example: "Hey, who wants to walk around and try to get lost?" (at 1:30 AM) It might not seem that crazy, but trust me, interesting things can happen, even in the quietest towns. But what I think really changed this semester was that I found someone to fill a certain need - someone I could talk to about anything, who would listen and be there, and give a crap. On that note - goodnight, internet. Or good morning. Life's only a matter of perspective anyway, right?